


Hurricane

by Tempest (novascotia7777)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural
Genre: BAMF everyone, Cambion, Canon Divergence - Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Demon!Bela Talbot, Demon!Dean, F/F, F/M, Family Don't End in Blood, Gen, Knight of Hell Dean Winchester, Language, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tempest makes friends with everyone she meets, Unbeta'd, WIP, Work In Progress, angel collars are the absolute worst, oh yeah and Charlie didn't die cause Bucky, starbucks addiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-07-29 01:03:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7664221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novascotia7777/pseuds/Tempest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with a raid. Tempest doesn't know who they are, only that it's three in the morning, her head hurts, and her best friend's missing. She calls Clint Barton, cashes in the favor he owes her adopted (she adopted them) brothers, and he hooks her up with transportation to Berlin. (Berlin! Germany! Holy! Shit!)<br/>"Batman, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."<br/>This is a story of family, of firsts, of second chances, and of new beginnings. Sometimes, you stumble upon something you don't realize you need until it worms its way into your life.<br/>WIP, chapters will be posted when they are finished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Firsts

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [An Avengers Tower Has Just The Correct Amount Of Responsible People](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3717757) by [watchingthestars13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchingthestars13/pseuds/watchingthestars13). 
  * Inspired by [nor need we power or splendor](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4053391) by [shellybelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shellybelle/pseuds/shellybelle). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tempest sticks her head where it don't belong to save someone she cares about. And then she sticks it where it does.

_July, 2016_  

She shouted a thanks to the pilot in order to be heard over the whir of the helicopter blades, a tan skinned man in dark military fatigues and dark hair. (Lola taught her how to be polite. You get more out of people that way.) He nodded to her, accepted the bulky tan headset she passed off, and gave her a two fingered salute before pulling the door shut. She disembarked the helicopter in the pouring rain, her short straight blue hair flying wildly because of the wind created by the blades. Her usually goldenrod eyes were clouded dark with righteous anger and a fierce determination. 

She was pissed. That was obvious to see even to people who didn't know her. 

She walked on the roof, black Converse smacking on the concrete and in puddles of rainwater. Standing in the doorway of the roof access was one Clint Barton, holding a towel in a clenched fist, his arms crossed. 

"How long?" she demanded, accepting the towel. "How long has he been here, held _captive_ like an _animal_?" 

"An hour," he answered as she carefully patted down her face. She then ran the towel down her head and patted down the yearling black and white tuxedo cat in her right hand. "You brought Batman?" Clint referred to the cat. 

"He wanted to come," she said simply as she found a dry corner of towel to wipe off her glasses with. Actually, he wouldn't let her leave without him (stupid pathetic mewing), but she was definitely _not_ disclosing that fact. "Lead the way," she ordered as she handed the piece of absorbent fabric back to the marksman. 

Clint didn't pity whoever she had her anger set on. Not one bit. He chucked the towel somewhere and started down into the stairwell. 

Three flights of stairs later, Clint strong armed the metal door open and led her down several hallways before leading her to what looked like a control room. There was a conference room on the other side, where Iron Man was tapping away on his phone, and Captain friggen' America was pacing angrily. Falcon tried to placate him. Black Widow was in the control room, helping with the analysts whose fingers were tap-tap-tapping away on keyboards and their eyes glued to their respective screens. 

"That's who you want," he murmured in her ear, pointing to a shorter man with blonde hair who was standing in the middle of the ring of desks, keeping an eye on everyone. "Everett Ross. He runs this whole place, and his daddy's Secretary of State Thaddeus Ross." 

"Lovely," she muttered sarcastically. Entitled? Hopefully not. "You might wanna take a step back. This is gonna get ugly." 

"Oh, trust me," he chuckled, "I'm counting on it. Give 'im hell, Hurricane." 

She waited for him to join his other Avenger friends before clearing her throat. "Excuse me," she said in the politest voice she could manage, "I'm looking for the person in charge of Sergeant Barnes's case? Namely the one who ordered the soldiers to point their assault weapons at me and him. Would that be you, Mr Ross?" 

The whole room went silent at her words, and Everett Ross turned to face her. Natasha was silent as she looked at her, too. Steve stilled in his pacing, Tony looked up from his phone, and Clint was trying to hold back sniggers. Sam gave Clint a look, _who's she?_ This was gonna be good, the marksman was certain. 

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" Ross demanded. 

"Tempest Winchester. I don't appreciate a gun being shoved to my head, Mr Ross. I also don't appreciate being pistol whipped, either, or members of my family taken from me. And as for me getting in here, well. I've got friends in high _and_ low places," Tempest smiled, like a serpent. "I assume there's some sort of charge against Sergeant Barnes, otherwise you wouldn't be holding him illegally. Might I ask what the charge is?" 

"Murder," Natasha Romanoff spoke up, linking eye contact with Tempest. "The murder of King T'Chaka of Wakanda, to be precise." 

"When?" she asked. 

"Yesterday morning." 

"He didn't do it," Tempest stated confidently, crossing her arms. Batman perched on her shoulder, giving menacing cat glares to everyone that looked at him wrong (which was everyone, as far as the feline was concerned). 

"What makes you say that?" Natasha grilled her. 

"'Cause yesterday was my birthday. We went to see _Finding Dory_ and then we went to an arcade. I have the ticket stubs; here," she handed the movie theater ticket stubs out for whoever to see from inside her hoodie pocket. "I'm sure you could pull the surveillance up from the theater. It's the one in Monticello, Michigan. We went to the 11:25 showing and saw _Finding Dory_ in 3D. Before that we went to IHOP." 

"Why are you so quick to defend him?" Captain America asked her, leaning against the glass wall of the conference room with his arms crossed. _When did he get out here?_  

"Because I believe that my country needs to do more for our soldiers who become prisoners of war, Captain Rogers, regardless if they were brainwashed or not, regardless if they were tortured or not, regardless if they were used as a weapon for HYDRA or not," Tempest admitted sincerely. "That, and he's lived with me for, like, a year. He gives the best hugs and he helps me out, and I help him, too. He doesn't let me go anywhere by myself 'cause he protects me like one of my big brothers do. When it's good, it's fantastic; but when it's bad, it's ugly. But that's okay, because I can be dark and twisty, too. He saved my life and he calls me his little sister," she told him passionately. 

"How old are you, kid?" Tony Stark asked her curiously. 

"I just turned thirteen, sir, not that I think it matters," she answered. 

 _So young_ , Natasha mused to herself. 

All of a sudden, the lights went out. Complete power outage. Everything was black. 

"Where is he?" Tempest demanded, instantly turning from calm and timid and friendly to harsh and strong and brave and determined. Batman curled up in her black sweatshirt pocket under her denim jacket. He was a tiny little thing, runt of the litter. 

"Oh, no," Stark shot her down instantly. "You're stayin' here, kiddo. Let the adults handle this." 

"Can I have some of what you're smokin', Mr Stark? I can _help_ ," she insisted. "One of you morons must've triggered him, and I can help him find his way back, so to speak." 

"Stay, puppy," Clint ordered before marching out of the control room. Captain Rogers followed. 

"Not bloody likely," she fumed under her breath. As soon as the Avengers were out of the control room, effectively forgetting about her, she strode out confidently and sneakily. 

The commotion was coming from some sort of food court. _What the hell is this place?_ James was going ballistic. All the civilians were out of the way, which was good. What wasn't good was that Natasha was sitting on James's shoulders, thighs wrapped around his throat, fists banging on his head in an effort to knock him out. Then, James slammed Natasha onto the table and wrapped his metal hand around her neck. 

Well. That wouldn't do. 

" _Stop!_ " Tempest shouted in Russian, showing her hands palm up in a placating gesture. "S _to_ _p!_ " James ignored her. _I hate to do this. I'm so s_ _orry, Jamie_ , she mentally apologized before speaking again. " _Aktivov, otboy!_ " (Asset, stand down!) He immediately stilled from trying to murder the (other) crazy Russian assassin. Actually, _everyone_ stilled. " _Otpusti yeye ,_ _teper'_ _._ " (Let her go, _now_.) 

He instantly released his grip and stood up straight, and Natasha jumped off the table and took a few steps back, gasping and breathing heavily. Clint wrapped an arm around her shoulders and asked her if she was okay in a low voice. 

"Agent Romanoff, are you alright?" Tempest asked, keeping her eyes completely on the Winter Soldier. 

"I'm fine," she coughed. 

" _Aktivov , kakova vasha missiya?_ " she barked out, hating every second. (Asset, what is your mission?) 

" _Pervichnaya missiya: zashchitit'_ Tempest _. Vtorichnaya missiya: otvlecheniye ,_ " he answered. (Primary mission: protect Tempest. Secondary mission: distraction.) 

" _Kto ya?_ " (Who am I?) 

" _Moy provodnik._ " (My handler.) 

" _Kto ty?_ " (Who are you?) 

" _Aktivov._ " (Asset.) 

" _Nepravil'no_ _. Kto ty?_ " (Incorrect. Who are you?) 

His brow furrowed in confusion. 

" _Kto ya?_ " she tried instead. (Who am I?) 

" _Moy pr_ _ovodnik ,_ " he answered, unsure this time. (My handler) 

" _Chto yeshche? Kak menya zovut?_ " (What else? What is my name?) 

" _Imya_ _?_ " he repeated. (Name?) 

" _Kto ya?_ " she pushed. (Who am I?) 

She hated to see her best friend, her _brother_ , struggle. Especially like this. His hands twitched from where they were at his sides, clenching and unclenching. 

" _Kto eto?_ " she asked, pointing at the Captain. (Who's that?) 

"Steve Rogers," James answered instantly. 

" _Otkuda ty eto znayesh'?_ " (How do you know that?) 

James was at a loss. 

" _Pozhaluysta, ne zamerzayut menya snova,_ " he begged. (Please don't freeze me again) 

 _Assets don't beg._  

" _YA ne sobirayus' tebya_ _zamorozit' . YA_ _obeshchal vam, chto nikogda ne povtoritsya,_ " she reassured him calmly, serenely. (I'm not gonna freeze you. I promised you that that would never happen again.) " _Ty znayesh' kto ya?_ " (Do you know who I am?) 

His eyes showed recognition and relief at a familiar face as he finally broke his programming. "Tempest," he said slowly, forcing his mouth to form the words. She knew he had issues sometimes with speaking after coming down from a trigger. " _Chto sluchilos'?_ " (What happened?) 

" _Ey , ya_ _v_ _poryadke , i_ _ty v poryadke_ ," she reassured him right off the bat in slow Russian. (Hey, I'm okay, and you're okay.) _Why couldn't he be fluent in Italian when coming down from a trigger?_ she wondered. _Note to self: practice Russian._ " _YA ponyatiya ne imeyu, gde my_ _nakhodimsya , i_ _ya ne_ _znayu , kak_ _my sobirayemsya vyyti otsyuda tol'ko poka. No_ _to , chto_ _ya_ _znayu , n_ _-nekotoryye oslom_ _dumal , chto_ _ty kogo-to ubil vchera. Kto-to vazhnoye. Nekotoryye_ _korol'_ _. Vot pochemu oni prishli iskat' nas. Ty pomnish'_?" (I have no idea where we are, and I don't know how we're gonna get out of here just yet. But what I do know is some jackass thought you killed s-someone yesterday. Someone important. Some king. That's why they came looking for us. Do you remember?)

He nodded slowly. " _Ty v poryadke?_ " James double-checked. (Are you okay?) 

" _YA v poryadke. YA imeyu v_ _vidu_ _, ya_ _,_ _navernoye_ _,_ shit _,_ _u_ _,_ uh _, chernyy glaz? Eto slovo?_ " (I'm fine. I mean, I'll probably have, shit, a, uh, black eye? Is that the word?) 

He strode the ten feet that separated them and gently grabbed her chin in his flesh-and-blood hand, examining her. 

" _Ty_ _takaya_ _nasedka!_ " Tempest laughed. " _YA v poryadke. U menya bylo khuzhe._ " (You are such a mother hen! I'm fine. I've had worse.) " _Khotya_ _, ya_ _mog polnost'yu ispol'zovat' ob'yatiye. YA by ne prevratit' eto vniz na vsekh._ " (Although, I could totally use a hug. I wouldn't turn that down at all.) 

Instantly, James wrapped his thick arms around Tempest in a near bone-crushing hug that she reciprocated in the same force, clinging to him desperately and shaking slightly. 

"You are _not_ allowed to scare me like that ever again, James Buchanan Barnes," she whispered in English in a harsh tone, full naming him. She wasn't sure if she was referring to the kidnapping or the reversion. 

"I'm sorry, _mladshaya sestra_ ," he apologized. (little sister) 

"You _better_ be sorry," she teased. "I didn't know if you were okay. I didn't know if they were hurting you, or where you even were. I don't like not knowing things, Jamie. If I didn't have this stupid collar—" Just then, Batman's harsh and frantic meowing registered to both their ears. "Shit!" Tempest swore, pulling him out of her hoodie. "I'm sorry, Batman," she apologized, kissing the top of his black and white head. 

"Batman?" James smiled a grim excuse for a genuine smile, taking the cat out of her hands and rubbing Batman's head against his face. 

" _So_ not my idea to bring him. The little shit wouldn't let me leave without him. He can be very persuasive when he wants to be." 

"Are you fucking kidding me? He goes from wanting to murder us to cooing over a fucking cat in two-point-seven seconds?" Sam Wilson gasped in shock, throwing his hands up in the air. 

"Tempest has powers," Clint stated seriously, serenely. 

"I think it was more like ten minutes," Natasha sassed. 

"He was _brainwashed_ ," Tempest glared at the superhero. "Speaking of brainwashed, I want to know who the dick is that triggered the return of the Winter Soldier. I want his head on a stick and roasting like a marshmallow in the fiery pits of Hell." 

"Can we curb the homicidal tendencies, please?" Clint quipped. 

"Nope," Tempest flashed that same serpent-like smile she gave Ross. "I'll accept help, but, either way, I'm doing this." 

"Mrow," Batman voiced his, quite vocal, request for Tempest. She took the little fur baby in her hands and let him crawl up her shoulder, where he sat perched like a bird. 

"I actually know a guy that can help me with the 'head on a stick in Hell' part," she mused to herself. "Meanwhile, we need to go somewhere where they're aren't mooks recording our every breath and muscle twitch. Anyone got any EMPs or smoke bombs so we can make a run for it?" 

* * *

 

 _Okay, so, Mr Stark wasn't_ that _bad_ , Tempest thought as they sat in some sort of industrial building away from the public eye. It was Natasha who found the place. Stark, however, got her the surveillance video. She hadn't watched it yet. Why? James was hovering. He was hovering, always making sure he had an eye on Tempest. Always making sure he knew what exactly she was doing at every single moment. So, she let him. James hovered and Tempest pulled her hair back in an excuse for a ponytail. Her blue (naturally blue) hair fell right above her shoulders, with faint curls residing due to the wet of the rainwater thus making tying it back out of her face difficult. 

"Shit," she swore abruptly, causing all the adults to come to attention on high alert. "Whoops, sorry. No danger. Just forgot that we were supposed to meet up with a couple friends of ours. Can I borrow a phone that works? I'm kinda out of my coverage range." Understatement. 

"Here, little Smurf," Stark tossed her a see-through phone. "Newest StarkBeam." 

"First of all, I'm not a Smurf. And 'B', thanks, Mr Stark. I'm a big fan of your tech. I think I stole one of your laptops a few years ago." 

Clint barked out a laugh at that. 

"You 'think'?" Stark repeated. 

"Well, I certainly didn't _purchase_ it. I'm broke as hell. Shit's expensive. How do I get to the keypad on this thing?" 

 _"Allow me, Miss Winchester,"_ a female voice chirped from the phone's speaker, and the Phone app opened up. 

"Holy crap," Tempest breathed in awe. 

"Friday, don't give her access to any of my shit except for the minutes," he ordered. 

 _"Got it, boss,"_ Friday affirmed. 

"Is Friday an artificial intelligence?" Tempest asked eagerly. 

"Coded her myself," Stark puffed his chest out with pride. 

"Dude, that's freakin' sick!" she informed him appreciatively. She had a soft spot for good tech. And with that, Tempest dialed in the ten digits and placed the phone next to her ear, listening to it ring. 

 _"You should not have this number; who is this?"_ a gruff and groggy voice answered after five rings. 

"Ex-nay on the menacing voice, Dean," she groaned, rolling her eyes. Typical Dean behavior. She could use some typical right about now, though. This whole shitfest was _way_ out of her scope. 

 _"_ Tempest _?_ _"_ he woke up instantly. _"W_ _hat're you doin' on a New York line? Where are you?"_  

"No idea; somewhere in Europe, I think—" 

"Berlin, Germany," Natasha supplied helpfully at the same time Dean interrupted her. "Outskirts." 

 _"What the_ hell _are you doin' in_ Europe _?"_  

"Would you let me get a word in?" Tempest snapped at him. "James and I are fine. We're in the outskirts of Berlin, Germany. Give me to Sam; you're useless." 

 _"Fuck you I'm useless!"_  

"You're swearing at a thirteen year old," she stated in a matter-of-fact tone. "Shit, you're not useless, okay? I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Lemme talk to Sam." 

 _"No way, Tem, tell me what the fuck is going on."_  

"I don't _know_ what the fuck's going on!" she exploded at him. He was silent for a whole minute, not expecting that reaction. "I'm sorry. I'm a little tense." 

 _"Aw, kiddo,"_ Dean sighed, rubbing his hand down his face. _"Tell me what's wrong."_  

"Someone decided the Winter Soldier killed some king yesterday. Or would it be the day before, now? Man, I don't even know what time zone I'm in right now." 

 _"Hold on, Sammy just walked in. I'm gonna put you on speaker."_  

"Heya, Moosey," Tempest greeted. 

 _"Hey, Tem. We still on for this afternoon?"_ Sam asked her. 

"'Fraid not. James and I are in Berlin." 

 _"_ _Berlin,_ Germany _?_ _What_ _? Why?"_  

 _"Winter Soldier was framed. People think he killed some sort of king or something,"_ Dean told his brother. 

"Yeah, so, then these assholes with friggen' assault rifles and pistols and shit completely storm the shitty house we were holed up in. How did they even find us? I bet that fucker Damien sold us out, the friggen' asshole. I got pistol whipped, Jamie got locked in a box; overall: not fun. So then I called Clint, cashed in that favor he owed you—" 

 _"Dude!"_ Dean whined. 

 _"Shut up, Dean."_  

"Anyway. Then, I rode in a quinjet and then a helicopter for about ten hours altogether, and then I gave an asshole a piece of my mind. Douche had it coming, friggen' pretentious, egotistical—" 

 _"Tempest."_  

"Sorry. Rabbit hole. Anyway. So, turns out someone actually triggered the Winter Soldier out from the deep dark corner that Jamie and I buried him in. Dunno how yet, I haven't looked at the surveillance video, and Jamie isn't exactly verbalizing well at the moment. So, then, I had to stumble over some Russian that I'm not good at speaking, but I got him out of it so that's all that matters, right? God, I'm tired," she sighed. "That was so scary. Oh my god." 

"'Jamie'?" Sam Wilson mouthed to Captain Rogers, who gave a confused shrug in response. 

 _"Breathe, Tem,"_ Sam reminded her and she drew in a deep, grateful breath. These two were the best; it was why she adopted their last name. _"Are you okay?"_  

 _"Are you hurt?"_ Dean added. 

"Nah, I'm fine. I've got a black eye from where I got pistol whipped in the face, but that'll be gone sometime tomorrow. I've got Batman with me, too. Jamie's got him. He's asleep on his lap," she looked over at him. "Batman's a good boy." 

 _"Okay, kiddo. So what's your plan?"_ Dean asked her. 

She took a deep breath again, blowing it out through her lips before speaking. 

"I don’t have a real concrete one, yet. Watch the surveillance video Mr Stark got me, find this bastard, and make him pay. Those are the bullet points." 

 _"Now, wait, Tem. Could it have been an accident? I mean, no one knows what could accidentally trigger him,"_ Sam reasoned. 

"Uh, that's a big 'hell no,' Samoose, based on the rampage I saw," she stated bluntly. "No way was that an accidental trigger." 

"What did I do? Did I hurt anybody?" Jamie spoke up for the first time in a half-hour. "Did I kill anyone?" 

"It doesn't matter," Tempest stated firmly and immediately. "That wasn't you. It's like getting possessed." 

 _"Tem, give James the phone,"_ Dean ordered, and she did as she was told. _"Okay, Barnes. You're gonna listen to me and you're gonna listen good. I know you're not_ _feelin'_ _very talkative right now, and I get it."_  

She tuned him out as she walked back to her corner of the room. 

"May I borrow your computer so I can watch the surveillance video, Mr Stark?" she asked politely. 

"Sure thing, kiddo," he answered, pulling a tablet out of his briefcase. "Don't drop it," Stark warned, handing it to her. She criss-crossed her legs and slid onto the floor. 

"Where's your shit, Tem?" Clint asked from where he stood leaning against a wall, sharpening arrowheads. 

"Minnesota. In that shitty foreclosed house we were squatting in. I already called Lola when I was still in the States; she's got our stuff safe. All I've got is the crap in my pockets, which ain't a lot." 

"You got that knife I gave you?" 

"Yessir," she responded in the affirmative, "the tactical knife and the switchblade." 

"Give 'em here, an' I'll sharpen 'em," Clint ordered. 

Now usually, Tempest don't take shit from no one. But it's been a long friggen' day. She's tired, she's got the munchies, and she's still a little pissed. But she can crash later, she tells herself. She's got a job to do. 

Tempest dug the knives out of her deep pockets (cargo pants in the boys section 'cause the girl pants are tight and have tiny pockets) and slid them over without a word. 

"Thanks, Clint," she thanked him in a small voice. She proceeded to dig through her pockets once more before pulling out a pair of black and magenta earbuds. No use for Jamie to get triggered again. "Mr Stark? Is Friday on here, too?" 

 _"I am, Miss Winchester. How can I help you?"_  

"Oh, um, can you pull up that surveillance video of Sergeant Barnes, please?" 

 _"You got it, hon,"_ Friday chattered, pulling up the video for her. _"Plug in your headphones and I'll play the file."_  

And so Tempest watched. The file was set up in four different views from four different cameras, but the audio was one constant track. She got a good view of the supposed psychiatrist sent to evaluate Jamie. She watched as he pulled out a red book with a black star and started reciting words in Russian. And she felt a surge of pride when Jamie screamed _christo_ right before he went Winter Soldier, and the bitch's eyes flashed black. 

"Oh, Jamie, you wonderful, brilliant thing!" she cheered, throwing a victorious fist in the air. "Friday, can you do facial recognition on this bastard?" 

 _"Boss!"_ Friday called for Stark over the tablet's speakers. _"Priority upload from Berlin police."_  

"What's up, Friday?" Stark came up and ripped the tablet out of her hands. 

"Hey!" Tempest squealed, standing up and trying to look over his tall (everyone was taller than her ugh) shoulder. 

 _"The Task Force called for a psychiatrist as soon as Barnes was captured. The UN dispatched Dr. Theo Broussard from Geneva within the hour. He was met by this man."_  

"That’s the dick in the video," Tempest stated at the picture Friday brought up. 

 _"Correct, Miss Winchester. The fake doctor is actually Colonel Helmut Zemo, Sokovian intelligence. Zemo ran 'EKO Skorpion,' a Sokovian covert kill squad."_  

"So, what happened to the real Broussard?" Stark asked. 

 _"He was found dead in a Berlin hotel room. The police also found a wig and facial prosthesis approximating the appearance of one James Buchanan Barnes."_  

"Called it! I friggen' called it! I _told_ you bitches he didn't do it!" Tempest exclaimed. 

"Yeah, whatever, kiddo. Friday, get this to Ross." 

"And Friday? Find this bitch," Tem added. 

 _"You got it, boss."_  

Now she knew the 'whom'. And the 'what'. The 'where' and 'why' were next to figure out. 

Looked like Captain Rogers was handling that. 

"People are dead. The bombing. The set up. The doctor did all that just to get ten minutes with you. I need you to do better than 'I don't know,'" he interrogated Jamie. 

"Captain's right, Jamie," she skipped over to where they were. Jamie sitting on the floor with Batman in his lap, Captain Rogers kneeled in front of him. "You did good with fighting your programming, but we need to know what that demon bitch wants. D'ya remember what he asked you? What he said? Anything?" 

"He wanted to know about..." Jamie struggled to think, to form the words. "Grr. Siberia. Where I was, mmm, kept. He wanted to know exactly where." 

"What's in Siberia; why would he need to know where you were kept?" Tempest spat the last word like it was a curse. 

"'Cause I'm not the only Winter Soldier, Tem," he admitted, flesh-and-blood hand in Batman's fur. 

"...Well shit." 

* * *

 

"Well shit," as Tempest had so eloquently stated it, was absolutely correct. Wilson had the brilliant idea of finding somewhere that had food before taking a requisitioned quinjet to Siberia, of all places. Siberia! Where even _was_ Siberia? 

She voiced that question in between bites of french fries. 

"Agent Romanoff? Where's Siberia?" she asked politely. 

"Northeast Russia," she answered from the pilot's chair. "You are very polite. Your parents taught you well." 

"Thanks, but, uh, I don't have parents," she shrugged. 

"Oh?" Natasha asked curiously, and every Avenger on the plane tuned into their conversation. On one side was Wilson, Cap, and Stark; on the other was Jamie, Tem, and Batman. Yes, Batman was in his own jump seat. There was a glass table in between the rows of jump seats. 

"Yeah," Tem said nonchalantly. "Never have, never will." 

"Tempest don't have a very good track record with families," Clint quipped from the co-pilot's seat. 

"Aaaaaaand _you_ suck!" she laughed. 

"Am I wrong, though?" 

"I have two older brothers who love me very much, you ass," she retorted. "Screw biology. Family don't end in blood." 

"Amen to that." 

And that was the end of that conversation. 

The next conversation would be a lot more painful to have. But, the words had to be said. These people needed to know what they were getting into. Tem could deal with the skeptics, she had before. This wasn't the first 'truth-of-what's-really-out-there' speech she had given. And it wouldn't do to have uninformed civvies on this. 

Shit. This was gonna suck. 

It took her a few hours to gather up her nerve, but gather it she did. Right before they would arrive at their destination, actually. 

"Alright, Avengers," she began, feeling a bit like a cliche for addressing the team in that way. "I'mma be blunt. But first, a demonstration. Friday, pull up an image of Zemo, please. One that everyone can see." The AI complied, pulling up a surveillance screengrab similar to the one she showed Tempest and Stark earlier and projected the image on the windshield of the jet and on the glass table in the middle of the aircraft in a holographic interface. "Okay, now please pull up the segment from the Berlin surveillance video I marked. Visual only, please." 

"What're you doin', kid?" Wilson asked. 

"Shattering world views," she smartassed. "Clint and Jamie already know what I'm gonna say, so those are your reliable witnesses. See how Zemo's eyes flash black in the video? Friday, zoom in on Zemo's eyes in the video." _Stark's AI is_ _friggen'_ _awesome._ "So, that's not a camera flare or a malfunction or some shit like that. _That_ , right there, is a demon. If I were to turn the audio on, in between Douchebag's brainwashing codewords full of shit, Jamie says _christo_. Now, _christo_ is 'Christ' in Latin. That's one of the ways you can tell that some poor sap's been possessed; _christo_ makes the eyes reveal the true nature of what's inhabitin' the meat suit. 'Eyes are the doorway to the soul' and all that shit." 

"Wait, hold on, I'm sorry," Stark interrupted with an incredulous laugh from where he sat in the middle of Captain Rogers and Wilson in his own jump seat, harnessed in. "Are you _honestly_ expecting us to believe this crap? None of this is real, kiddo." 

" _Actually_ , Mr Stark, it _is_. This is your 'the truth is out there' speech, Tempest style," she argued firmly. "Everything anyone has ever told you about the supernatural to scare you shitless is true, and is out there. Except for Bigfoot, the Loch Ness monster, Santa Claus, and the Easter Bunny. That shit ain't legit." 

"Angels?" Captain Rogers asked. "Those are real, too?" 

"Probably not what you were expectin', Cap, unless you expected 'em to be fluffy winged dicks with a bad attitude and daddy issues." 

"God?" 

"Deadbeat father. No one knows where He is, or if He's comin' back anytime soon. Sorry, man. Heard you were Catholic," she shrugged apologetically. "The man upstairs ain't takin' calls right now. Try again in about another hundred years." 

"Is this a joke?" Wilson had to ask. "Demons. Angels." 

"And vampires, werewolves, tulpas, ghosts, wendigos, all that shit. Nah, man, this ain't a joke. This is my life," she stated. "The people that deal with the things that go bump in the night, we're called hunters. My brothers have been doin' it all their lives; so've I. I met Clint on a case. Same with Jamie." 

"She's not joking," Clint affirmed. "I met her and her dumbass brothers—" 

"Hey!" 

"—when I got these," he gestured to his hearing aids. "Stayed in their Batcave for a coupla days before I met back up again with Tasha. The place is cool. But demons are fuckers. Stabbed my ears with my own arrows and cut me up with my own bow." 

"Sadistic shitheads," Tempest agreed. "'Aight, now, you can tell a demon's a demon by saying _christo_. There are two ways to get rid of the bitch. One, you stab 'em with an angel blade." She flicked her wrist and exposed her own blade, dropping it down from inside her sleeve. "These are hard to come by. Only angels get 'em, and the only way to get it is to kill the angel and steal the blade, or to get it from a hunter who has a shit ton. Now, this way kills the host. I try to stay away from this unless I'm sure the host is dead." 

"How are you sure?" Natasha asked, speaking up for the first time in hours. "Can demons possess corpses?" 

"Nah, the meat suit starts out livin'. But if there's visible broken bones, or like a gunshot wound, those are the only times I shank 'em. I don't like killin' things, but I'm not gonna let a person suffer any longer than they hafta. I do it quick. I usually do the second way, which is an exorcism. Just a bit of Latin spoken, then the demon's forced to leave in a big puff of black smoke. Trust me, you'll know an exorcism when you see it. But it's not like that _Exorcist_ shit, with the projectile vomiting. Just screaming, head thrown back, black smoke escaping from the mouth. Still, though, an exorcism doesn't mean that the host always makes it. Possession is draining on a body. Demons don't need to eat or sleep. And the psychological shit is hard on the brain, too. Sometimes the host just dies, and you can't help it. It sucks. Anyway, so, the exorcism. I've got a recording on my phone that I can AirDrop to anyone—" 

"Ew, you have an iPhone?" Stark complained. 

"Stole that, too. Shut up. I'm sure you can find a way to get it off my phone and into your system. I'm gonna go over the Latin either way. Alright, so it's _exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas,_ _omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, ergo draco maledicte,_ _ut_ _ecclesiam tuam servire, tibi facias libertate secura, te rogamus, audi nos._ Short and sweet. There're longer ones, but this one's effective enough. We're dealin' with a black eyed bitch, not a red eyed one." 

"What's the difference?" Cap asked. 

"Doesn't matter right now; we're landing," Clint announced. "You got any of those anti-possession necklaces on you, Tem?" 

"Shit, you're a genius, I totally forgot," she swore, leaning her butt off the seat to rummage around in her pockets. 

"Get your ass back in that seat properly," Jamie ordered, verbalizing for the first time since Berlin, a whopping seven and a half hours. 

"Jeez, Jamie, it's fine," Tempest bitched at him. 

At least the sun was finally starting to peek out from behind the clouds on the horizon. It wasn't as dark anymore. And there was snow, like everywhere. 

"I don't think we're in Kansas, anymore, Batman," Tempest murmured as both girl and feline gazed out the window of the quinjet. "Can we play in the snow after we deal with the demon, Jamie?" 

"We'll see, doll," he said uncommitively. "You're not dressed for it. And if I take you home to your brothers with a cold, Dean'll add a extra hole to my head." 

"You're being overdramatic," Tempest stated, still going through her pockets. "Sam and Cas would never let him shoot you. We don't shoot family. Son of a bitch, I know I have some on me!" _This is getting ridiculous_ , Tempest fumed inwardly as she started to pull out her pockets and let her shit clatter onto Jamie's lap. "I never leave anywhere without carrying anti-possession necklaces; just like Dean, just like Sam, just like Jody," she grumbled to herself. "Mother trucking trucker. I hate every-friggen'-thing in the whole friggen' universe. Friggen' heck." 

"You swear like a five-year-old," Stark laughed at her as Clint and Natasha dropped the bird in the snow. 

"Screw you," was her automatic retort. "If I could just... Yahtzee!" Tempest said victoriously, holding six black cords looped into necklaces up in the air. "These'll prevent the demon from jumpin' your bones. Everyone gets one. Tuck 'em under your shirts or somethin'; I doubt the demon knows we know it's a demon, or that I'm here." 

"Why would it matter if _you_ were here, kid?" Wilson asked curiously as he accepted a necklace and pulled it over his head, tucking the metal charm under his shirt. 

"You know how you guys are superheroes? Well, we Winchesters have made a name for ourselves in the supernatural community. We help keep people safe, too, just not in as public of a way," she explained. 

"That, and demons are scared shitless of Winchesters," Clint added. 

"Supernatural creatures tell their little kids stories of Winchesters to get them to behave instead of the boogeyman," quipped James. 

"Well, for the record, I only go after the ones that do something wrong, like hurt people. Samoose sees the same way I do, and we're bringin' Deano around. Same with Cassie," Tem defended himself. 

"Does Cas know you call him Cassie?" Clint teased. 

"Cassie loves me," she retorted dramatically. 

" _Children_ ," Natasha interrupted. 

"Sorry, Agent Romanoff," Tempest smiled innocently at her. "So. What's the plan, boss?" She rubbed her hands together excitedly and looked to the Captain for the game plan.

* * *

 

"Seven people, five of 'em being bona-fide _superheroes_ , seems a little extreme for some pissant demon," Tempest quipped from inside an air duct. _Thank the gods for denim_ , she thought as she crawled on her hands and knees, hands tucked into the sleeves of her denim jacket. She didn't like thanking God for shit. He was a dick who wasn't around. "Jamie and I could've handled this on our own." 

"No one was willing to stay in the jet," Clint justified as he inched behind her. He was a lot bigger than her, so he had to army crawl on his forearms and toes. "They're superheroes. They have a saving-people complex. Like Sam and Dean. Like _you_." 

"I don't have a saving-people complex," she grumbled. 

"Your family's mantra is 'saving people, hunting things,'" he quoted teasingly. 

"Yeah, well, I'm adopted," she joked. Then she turned serious. "I've got a bad feeling about this, Clint." 

"I don't," he reassured her. "This'll be a piece of cake, kiddo." 

"Yeah, we'll see," she murmured, unconvinced. At long last, she stopped in front of the vent she thought was the one she needed, tilting her head down to listen. 

"Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. No. I'm here because I made a promise," she heard Demony McDemonass say through the vent. 

"This is it," she whispered, recognizing the voice from the one in the video, before kicking it open and dropping down through the hole, angel blade pointed at the demon. 

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Zemo swore. 

"Heya, demon," she greeted nonchalantly. "Unlock the door and step on outta the box. We're gonna have a little chat with my friends out there." 

"And what if I don't?" he challenged her cockily. 

"See, I used to be able to hurt you bastards with a blink of an eye, exorcise you with a wave of my hand. Now, I'm collared. And I'm pissed. On top of that, you messed with my best friend out there," she hooked a thumb towards Bucky. "So, _now_ , I'm _super_ pissed. And stab-happy. _Get out._ " 

Every demon knew what happened when a demon got stabbed with an angel blade. They ceased to fucking exist! And the Winchester brats were all too eager to use them. So Zemo opened that door and yanked it open as fast as demonically possible and got out of that bunker-style room. Right into a devil's trap. 

"Aww, hell! You fucking Winchesters, you're all so fucking childish!" Zemo exclaimed. 

"Um, I _am_ a child; so, what’s your excuse?" 

Stark bit back a snicker. 

"Fuck you, you cambion _bitch_!" 

"Okay, first of all, not in a bajillion years. And second of all, a bitch is a dog, dogs bark, bark is on trees, trees are nature, and nature is beautiful, so, thank you." 

Stark couldn't help the laugh that escaped from his lips that time; neither could Clint or Wilson. Jamie just smirked, used to her lip. 

"And third of all, _christo_."

The demon hissed as his eyes flashed black.

"Bitch," he name-called. Tempest ignored the insult.

"Now, we know why human Zemo was so eager for world domination. What does _demon_ Zemo want?" 

"Besides fucking little boys until they scream?" the demon replied cockily. 

Tempest growled. " _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus—"_  

" _Okay_ , okay, okay!" he screamed, desperate and panicked at the thought of being magicked back to Hell. 

"I'm at the end of my patience, asshole," she warned. "Like, the _very_ end. So. I suggest you tell me _exactly_ what I wanna know. Why are you here?" she shouted the last words. "What the hell do you want? Where's the typical villain speech I always get from you dicks?" 

"I don't gotta tell you _nothin'_ ," he spat. 

" _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis—"_  

" _Stop!_ Okay, _okay_!" 

"Who sent you?" she screamed at him. 

"Damien! He wanted the 4-1-1 on your stupid brainwashed Russian psychopath!" he hissed in pain. 

"Ahh, Damien," she murmured, finally getting somewhere. "He realizes that he's never gonna be King 'a' Hell, right? That's Crowley's gig. You think y'all pissants gonna take down the King by messin' 'round with _me_? Might as well just take a long walk off a short pier, might get shit done faster." 

"Oh, _ha_ , ha. You're a total _bitch_ , you know that?" 

"Do I need to run you by the bitch-to-beautiful train of thought again? 'Cause I can. Right before I send ya packin', o'course." 

"What the _hell_ , I never agreed to—" 

"Can it," she snapped. "Anyone have anything to ask the demon, or shall I boot him back to where he belongs?" 

Natasha strode over from in the shadows and stood behind and to the side of Tempest. 

"How'd you find them?" she interrogated. 

"Holy shit," the demon drew out, rubbing a nervous hand through his short brown hair. "You're friends with _the Black Widow_?" 

"I suggest you answer her question," was all Tempest gave him. "She don't look too happy." 

He hesitated, but only briefly. "First we had a coupla demons tailin' 'em. Then, when they exorcised 'em, we just stuck a hex bag in one of their bags. P-please don't kill me!" 

"I'm done," Natasha told the girl. "Feel free." 

"Send Damien my regards," Tempest said sarcastically before booting straight into the Latin. "Colonel Zemo," she addressed the human within, "if you can hear me, I'm so sorry." 

"You _bitch_! You _fucking_ bitch!" the demon screamed at her. It wasn't anything she hadn't heard before. 

And that was how the Avengers witnessed their first exorcism. It was just a bunch of screaming, a lot of black smoke, and a little Latin. 

* * *

 


	2. Story Time and Visions From Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tempest visits the Facility, and brings shit to her new friends' home.

A few hours in the flight to the Avengers Facility, Tempest was sacked out, slumping against James's shoulder mid-sentence. 

"I wondered when that was gonna happen," was all he said to the concerned looking Avengers. He gently maneuvered her so that her head was in his lap, and little pale hands reached out from blue sleeves to clutch at his jeans. "I got you, doll," he murmured, running a hand through her hair to soothe her. 

Batman, obviously concerned, hopped onto her seat and started to lick her face, meowing frantically. 

"Bat, she's asleep," Bucky told him. "Leave her alone. She's fine. She's asleep." To accentuate that statement, he gently pulled her glasses off her face, folded them closed, and tucked them into a pocket. Once Batman was satisfied she wasn't dead (she only took her glasses off when she was sleeping; if her glasses were on and she was out cold, there was a problem; cat logic), he curled up on top of her hip and played guard-cat. 

"How'd you two—" Batman hissed, cutting Wilson off. " _Three_ ," he amended, "meet?" 

"She saved my life," Bucky admitted freely. "Well, I saved hers first. Then she saved mine." 

* * *

_December, 2014_  

 _He drove monotonously on some back road two-lane highway in the middle of nowhere. It wasn't raining —or snowing— yet, but the clouds threatened it. He was still trying to figure what being James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes meant, what it was._  

 _He happened upon a sedan with their hazards flashing, parked on the side of the highway. The trunk and driver's door were both opened, and there was discarded rope in the dirt. Pulling his stolen truck behind the sedan, he left the lights on and cut the engine. There were prints, he noticed, little frantic handprints and footprints, like someone small crawled stumbling out of the trunk and took off running. On closer examination of the tracks, it looked like the hands were still bound._  

 _"Get off me!" he heard a shrill, childlike scream. Her next plea was cut off by a heart wrenching cry of pure agony._  

 _Well, that decided it. Bucky couldn't stand to hear screams like that anymore. Checking the ammo in his Glock, he tore off after the scream, following the tracks. His steps made no noise in the dirt and gravel of the Texan desert._  

 _It didn't take him long to reach the scene: one man, one little girl with dark blue hair. Well, he assumed it was a little girl. The hair length, for one, and the pitch of the voice. The clothes were another story: camo cargo pants and a shirt with Captain America's shield plastered on the front. The little girl's hands were bound with fluorescent yellow rope, and her right arm was bent at an odd and unnatural angle. And even though she lied on the ground, hair and back dirty and dusty, her golden eyes carried defiance and strength._  

 _The man lifted his gun, aimed it at her head, put a round in the chamber._  

 _"I know y_ _ou don't wanna do this," she told him, tears running down her face. Pleaded. Begged. "I'm not a threat_ _, you know it_ _."_  

 _"You're not human," the man growled at her._  

 _"Y-you really want the Winchesters on your ass?" Sounded like a well-deserved threat, whoever they were. "'Cause that's what'll happen if you fire that gun. You'll never be able to hide."_  

 _He hesitated at the mention of the Winchesters, and that's when he decided to make his presence known._  

 _"This man botherin' ya, doll?" Barnes drawled, making the man jump in shock._  

 _"He was just_ _leavin'_ _," she told him with a quirk of a smile and a sniffle._  

 _"Buddy, you don't know—" The man was cut off by Barnes's Glock in his face, the click of the safety being flicked off. "_ Okay _, okay, I got the message," he said rapidly, backing away with his hands up. "I'll just be going. Uh, your funeral."_  

 _And with that, the pussy darted off back towards his car._  

 _"Pussy!" the girl called after him, insulting him. "I'm not even that dangerous. Thanks for the save, though. That guy was totally gonna put a bullet in my head. I’m Tempest, who're you?"_  

 _"James," he gave. "Saw the car pulled over on the side of the road, thought I'd investigate," he explained as he watched her struggle to get to her feet. Holstering his gun, he bent down and gathered her up in his arms._  

 _"Hey!" Tempest exclaimed as she was lifted up off the ground._  

 _"C'mon, kiddo. I'll patch you up. That arm looks broken," he said as he wiped her leaking eyes with his flesh thumb._  

 _"I bet it is. That asshole stomped on it," she_ _sniffled_ _in pain._  

 _He didn't know it yet, but she did. They were gonna be the best of friends someday, starting with this._  

* * *

_July, 2016_  

"Whoa," Tempest breathed in awe as Clint and Natasha landed the quinjet in the underground hangar of the Avengers Facility. 

"Cool place, huh, kid?" Stark asked teasingly. 

" _Just_ a bit cooler than mine, but don't let my brother know I said that," she told him. 

"There is _no way_ your place compares to mine," he sounded offended. 

"Remind me to have you over sometime," she promised as the plane doors opened. "You, too, Cap. There's a lot of old tech there. Probably from your era. Jamie knows what half of it is." 

And then they were disembarking, Batman perched on her shoulder as always, the loop of his blue bungee leash looped around her right wrist. The team led her and Bucky down a corridor or two, through two security checkpoints, and up a few levels in an elevator until they reached the common floor. 

The first thing Tempest noticed was not the layout of the room, nor how expansive it was. It wasn't the view from the floor-to-ceiling windows or the sliding glass door. It wasn't the huge television, the state-of-the-art entertainment center, and it wasn't any of the gizmos lying around or the gadgets in the kitchen. It was the boxes of pizza sitting on the granite-top island. There had to be at least fifteen! It was the most pizza she had ever seen in all her years. And there was soda. There was Coca-Cola, and Pepsi, and A&W Root Beer, and Crush Orange, and Mountain Dew, and Squirt, and Sprite, and A&W Cream Soda, and Dr Pepper. 

The next thing she noticed were the two people sitting at the island, munching on slices of veggie pizza in front of an open box. The woman she recognized from the news (and as Charlie's fangirl crush) as Wanda Maximoff. The man, though, she didn't know. He was cool-looking, with red and purple skin but no hair. They sat within a comfortable distance of each other on black bar chairs. 

"Hi," she greeted. "I'm Tempest. Is there any cheese pizza I can have?" 

"I think so. I'm Wanda, and this is Vision. How did you get in here?" Wanda asked as she stood to look through the boxes. 

"It's okay, Wanda; she's harmless," Clint reassured her, walking in and heading straight to the boxes. 

"What is that... creature, on your shoulder?" Vision queried with a British accent. 

"Him?" Tempest asked for clarification, pulling Batman down and into her hand like one would hold a small dog. "This is Batman. He's my cat." 

"Meow," Batman meowed his own hello. 

"D'ya wanna hold him? He won't bite you. And he's very soft," she offered. 

"I would, actually. Thank you." Vision rose and, after wiping his hands on a paper towel, took the proffered feline. "Hello, Batman." 

Batman purred and rubbed his face against Vision's. 

"Aww, he likes you!" Tempest beamed. 

"Here, kiddo," Clint set a plate and a glass down in front of her. On the red plate were two slices of cheese pizza, and in the clear glass was cream soda. 

"Thank you, Clint," she aimed her smile at him and sat down at the island, pulling her hair back before partaking of her first bite. Soon all the other Avengers were crowding around, getting their own lunch and refreshments. 

" _Vash russkiy ochen' khorosho dlya kogo-to vashego vozrasta,_ " Natasha complimented her as she grabbed her own slices. (Your Russian is very good for someone your age.) 

" _Spasibo,_ Agent Romanoff _,_ " Tempest thanked, not expecting that compliment. " _No ya govoryu po-ital'yanski gorazdo luchshe._ " (Thank you, Agent Romanoff. But I speak Italian much better.) 

"Natasha. _È così?_ " she asked, switching to Italian. (Is that so?) 

" _Ho vissuto con una coppia di italiani per circa_ _otto_ _mesi. Maria e Fiammetta sono stati molto gentili con me, e ho preso il linguaggio facilmente. E 'stato più facile da imparare, a mio parere. Più facile a parlare,_ " she explained as Natasha came to sit next to her. (I lived with an Italian couple for about eight months. Maria and Fiammetta were very kind to me, and I picked up the language easily. It was easier to learn, in my opinion. Easier to speak.) 

" _Russo può essere difficile da imparare, soprattutto se l'inglese è la prima lingua_ ," Natasha agreed, taking a bite of combination pizza. (Russian can be difficult to learn, especially if English is your first language.) 

" _E 'difficile, ma Jamie mi ha insegnato pezzi e_ _bocconi_ _. Mi piace la sfida._ " (It's hard, but Jamie has been teaching me bits and pieces. I enjoy the challenge.) 

" _Conoscete_ _i_ _vostri numeri?_ " (Do you know your numbers?) 

" _Posso contare fino a venti_ ," Tempest told her, then began counting in Russian. (I can count to twenty.) 

" _Chto vy_ _delayete_ _,_ _malen'kaya_ _sestra?_ " James and Steve walked in when she reached seventeen. (What are you doing, little sister?) 

" _YA praktikuyu moi nomer. YA pochti zakonchil,_ " she answered in Russian. (I am practicing my numbers. I'm almost done.) " _Semnadtsat', vosemnadtsat', devyatnadtsat', dvadtsat'. Tam , zakonchil._ " (Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty. There, finished.) 

" _Molodets,_ " Natasha praised. (Well done.) 

"So," Tony leaned against the counter that housed the stove and sink, sinking his teeth in a slice of all meat pizza. "What's your story, kiddo?" 

"Sorry, Mr Stark," Tempest smirked. "You have to be _at least_ a level ten friend to unlock my tragic backstory." 

"You don't have a tragic backstory," Clint laughed. 

She just raised one eyebrow. "Cambion, remember?" 

"Cambion?" Wanda repeated in alarm. 

"Well, not the traditional kind," Tempest was quick to soothe. _She must be religious_ , she mused. "I'm not half-human/half-demon. I'm half-angel/half-demon, but I like to think that the angel half cancels out the demon half." 

"Do you have any abilities?" Wilson asked curiously. 

"Well, I _used_ to be able to fly. Kinda like you do, Falcon, only my wings were _real_. I had four. Two upper, two lower, like a butterfly, but feathered. And I was telekinetic: I could do shit with my mind. Kinda like Wanda, but without the floaty red stuff and the hand movements. Big fan, by the way. I used to be able to snap things up outta thin air like angels do. But I could also do shit that demons could do: teleport, push people against walls, that sort of shit. And I could also exorcise those bitches with my mind." Her words took on a wistful tone. 

"What changed?" Natasha asked gently. 

Tempest pulled down her black lace choker, revealing the chain links burned into her neck with white ink. 

"Michael, the head angel bitch in charge upstairs, decided that a creature with my abilities, especially considering my parentage, was hella dangerous. So, they found me, slapped one of these bad boys on. It's called an angel collar." She pulled the choker back up, covering the burns. "Restricts my powers, pinions my wings. Leaves me useless. Burns into the skin so only the one who put it on can remove it. The last one to wear one of these was human, back before Jesus roamed the Earth. Story has it, he went completely batshit. He could see the true faces of angels and demons; went totally paranoid. Tried to kill himself but the collar brought him back. Bans passage to Heaven, Hell, an' Purgatory; no place for the soul to go. So, God banned 'em. The collars were too cruel on humans. In an effort to get God to come back, Michael dug one of these out of the Heavenly Armory. Put it on the child of his father's favorite son." She shrugged. "Had this thing for years. Hate the stupid thing." 

"Does it hurt?" Wanda asked. 

"Meh. Sometimes the burn acts up. It mostly just pisses me the hell off," she said nonchalantly, taking another bite of pizza. 

"Well, how do we get it off?" Steve asked in his Captain voice. 

Tempest was touched, almost choking on her bite in surprise. Here she was, not a modicum of human in her, and _Captain America_ wanted to help her remove the collar that binded her and essentially clipped her wings. And, based on the looks on the other Avengers' faces, they wanted to help, too. 

"Uh, we don't," she stated firmly but with a sad smile. "The only two beings in all of Creation that can get it off are Michael and God. God's gone, and no one knows where he got gone to. And Michael? Michael's in the Cage with his pissed off little brother, Luci. That's what he gets for trying to start the Apocalypse, though. Either way, no one's openin' that Cage. If I never see Lucifer again, it'll be too soon," she finished with a grumble. 

"There has to be a way," Wilson insisted. "You're just a _kid_ , for Chrissake!" 

"Yeah, I'm a kid," she acquiesced. "But I'm also _extremely_ powerful, or, was. I was created for the sole purpose to take over Hell as King. Now, obviously, I'm not gonna do that. For one, demons are butt ugly. Like seriously. And 'B', they have this whole 'torture' and 'steal your soul' vibe that I don't like too much. Plus, that _little_ matter that they're, y'know, _evil_. The only way to get this thing off is by opening the Cage, and I'm not selfish enough to wish Hell on Earth just so I can spread my wings again; let alone the fact that their vessels are my brothers. So, I'll live with the collar. I've made my peace with this years ago. There's nothing anyone can do," she said simply, which, to her, it was. "I appreciate the sentiment, but this thing stays on." 

"That's very brave," Wanda commented. 

"It's common sense," Tempest argued, but accepted the compliment anyway. "Captain, you asked me earlier what the difference between different demons were," she stated, desperate to change the subject. 

"That was yesterday, but, yeah, I did," Steve answered curiously. 

"Well, there're several different kinds of demons. The most powerful are the white eyed demons, Hell's Generals. They're the highest in the hierarchy, just under Lucifer himself. As far as I've seen, there're only two: Lilith, the first ever demon, and Alastair, the head torturer in Hell. My brothers killed them. Then there are the Knights of Hell. Those are just under the Generals. Those were trained by Cain himself, and they were all hand-picked by Lucifer. My brother, Dean, killed one of them, Abbadon. I killed Cain—" 

" _Cain_? Like 'Cain and Abel,' _that_ Cain?" Wanda asked. 

"Yeah, but what the Bible doesn't tell you is that Abel was talking to Lucifer, not God. He wasn't God's favorite. Cain made a sacrifice: his soul in Hell for Abel's in Heaven. Lucifer said yes, with the stipulation that Cain had to kill Abel himself. So, to protect his brother, he did. Cain was actually pretty chill when he wasn't on a murder spree. He was a beekeeper. I visited him a number of times before he asked me to kill 'im. He had really good honey." 

"So, let me get this straight. A _Knight of Hell_ asked a _little girl_ to kill him?" Tony asked skeptically. 

"He knew me. He knew I wouldn't break my promise. And he knew that he couldn't stop killing innocent people. So he asked me, and I followed through," she defended her old friend. "I was one of the only creatures that could do it, and I hated it. I don't like killin' my friends. 

"After the Knights are the red-eyed demons. Most of them are Crossroad demons, deal-makers. They convince you to give up your soul in exchange for something otherwise impossible to obtain, such as bringing someone back to life. _Don't sell your soul, ever._ You'll get a max of ten years before Hellhounds come and rip you apart, bringing your soul down to Hell where you'll be tortured until you turn into a demon bitch. The current King of Hell is a red-eyed demon, a former Crossroads demon named Crowley. He ain't that bad unless his agenda conflicts with yours. 

"The lowest in the hierarchy are the black-eyed bitches. They're the most common, the easiest to get rid of, and the stupidest. Most of them have common sense, but some of them are absolute _idiots_ and are easily taken care of, like the one we saw in Siberia. That bastard was so stupid, he couldn't tell his head from his ass, I swear," she groaned at the stupidity. "If you're gonna go after the Winter Soldier, at _least_ do your research!" 

"Tempest," James said in a fond voice. 

"I mean _honestly_ , Jamie!" she threw her hands up in exasperation. "Every demon and their mother knows you run with me and the Winchesters. At least the ones that aren't morons. Actually, I take that back. I think even the ones that are _morons_ know that, too. They have no excuses for not being cocky idiots. Oh, that reminds me," she remembered, pulling out two more anti-possession necklaces. Tempest gave them to Vision and Wanda. "Wear these. Don't lose 'em. Hell, get it tattooed, it's just as effective." 

"Effective against what? Demons?" Vision asked for clarification. 

"Yep," Tempest popped the consonant. "Just wear it, dude." 

"Well!" Clint clapped his hands together. "That was an enlightening conversation. Anyone up for _MarioKart_?" 

* * *

"This fuckin' sucks ass," Dean stated to the room as he paced. 

"You think I want it to go this way, Dean?" Sam retorted from his seat at the huge table, lore books spread out atop the surface. "You think I wanna leave her with people we don't even know?" 

"She'll educate them," Charlie waved her hand. "Butterfly'll be fine, guys. She'll be with fucking superheroes! I'm actually a little jealous, to be honest." 

Dean fixed her with a black-eyed glare. 

"She's a _kid_." 

"She is," Charlie agreed with Dean, not fazed about the eyes, "but she's a _Winchester_. I'm not worried about her in the slightest, and you shouldn't be, either. You want Luci to find her? Huh? How 'bout Amara?" 

"I _know!_ " Dean quit pacing to smack his hands on the table. 

"This is the only way we can keep her safe, Dean," Sam stated calmly. "I want her here, too, but we just _can't_ risk either one of them getting her. We can't be selfish about this." 

"I know." This was said in a softer tone, much unlike his earlier exclamation. "I _know_. But I don't fuckin' like it." 

"I don't fuckin' like it, either," his brother concurred. 

"Same," Charlie spoke up. "But she'll be safer there, especially if none of us knows where it is." 

Dean groaned dramatically. "Gimme a phone. I'm callin' Clint." 

* * *

After a dinner of enough pasta to end world hunger ("Henry Batman Winchester, you are a mature feline being who knows better; you do not eat spaghetti! You don't even like it!"), Wanda suggested a movie. 

"Ooh! Got any Disney movies?" Tempest asked. "My favorite one is _Big Hero 6_ , but my favorite Disney _Princess_ one is _Beauty and the Beast_." 

" _A Bug's Life_?" Sam Wilson suggested. 

"Ooh, I like that one, too!" 

"No, no, no, no, no," Clint quickly shot down. "Remember _The Secret World of_ _Arriety_?" 

"Yeah!" Tempest quickly agreed. "Can we watch that?" 

"No Disney movies!" Tony proclaimed. 

"Boo!" Tempest exclaimed, flopping onto the couch. 

"Disney, Disney, Disney!" Clint started to chant, causing her to join in. "Disney, Disney, Disney, Disney, Disney!" 

"No Disney!" Tony repeated. 

"Yes Disney!" Tempest screamed, laughing maniacally like the little girl she was. 

"Action movie?" Tony suggested instead. 

"Disney!" Clint insisted. 

"What's Disney?" Vision interrupted. 

Tempest gasped comically. "You don't know what Disney is?" She was _horrified_. Even Cassie and Lola knew what Disney was! "Friday! Put a Disney movie on _immediately_!" 

 _"Which Disney movie, Miss Winchester?"_ Awesome. She was right to assume Friday worked here, too. The curved television lit up with a selection of Disney movies sorted by year. 

"I haven't seen _Zootopia_ yet," Natasha mentioned nonchalantly. 

"That movie is freakin' awesome!" Tem exclaimed. "I vote that." 

"Same!" Clint collapsed next to her on the couch, causing her to bounce up in the air. 

"I'm down for _Zootopia_ ," Sam decided. "I'll make popcorn." 

"Which one's _Zootopia_ again?" Jamie asked as Sam walked away. 

"Bunny cop," Tempest clarified. 

"Movie night calls for movie night nest," Clint announced. "Help me get blankets and pillows, Tem." He scooped her up and walked down one of the hallways. 

"Put me down!" she giggled. 

Despite her best efforts, Tempest fell asleep about halfway through the movie, snoozing away on Natasha's thigh in the nest, Clint on the other side of her and Jamie on the sofa above her. Keeping watch, as always. 

"She looks so young," Natasha mused softly as to not wake the sleeping child. 

"But she's a lot older than she looks," James admitted. "Just don't act like it all the time." 

"Hmm," she hummed uncommitively. 

"Tash, can you put her to bed? She can stay in our rooms for tonight," Clint suggested. "Don't worry, Barnes, it's right down the hall from where Stark's puttin' you up." Clint didn't doubt that James would end up in Tempest's room to keep an eye on her. He nodded in recognition. 

Natasha maneuvered the sleeping child so she was in her arms, her head resting against her chest. She stood effortlessly, and Tempest snuggled up to her. 

"Come, _maylutka_ ," she murmured when she stirred. (little one) She carried her down the hall to the Avengers sleeping quarters. Natasha walked to the pair of rooms that she and Clint shared, one with two beds and one with only one bed. Skillfully, she repositioned Tempest so she was holding her weight with one arm as she pulled the covers back, then tucked her in and set her glasses on the night stand. This room was simply decorated, with only the necessities. She likened it to a hotel room or a guest room. It had a queen sized bed, a nightstand on each side, a dresser with a flat screen television on the surface, and an ensuite bathroom that connected to her and Clint's room. 

Batman came waltzing in like he hadn't a care in the world and hopped on the bed, stopping only to stretch and yawn before he took his place as the little spoon. Tempest's arm came out of the covers and pulled him close like one would gently snuggle a stuffed animal. Gently, because the last time Tempest held him too hard, he bit her in retaliation. 

"Na-night, Batman, love you," she slurred sleepily. 

Natasha leaned in and kissed her forehead, murmuring, " _Dobr_ _o_ _y nochi, maylutka._ " (Good night, little one) 

"Na-night, Tasha," Tempest responded as she fell back into dreamland. Natasha allowed herself one small yet fond smile as she creeped out of the room and cracked the door for the cat to come and go if he needed to. 

* * *

 

 _She's in Hell. In the hellhound kennels, to be precise. But it's not a bad thing. The floor was covered in fake grass, and there were metal cages lining one wall. It's familiar. Tempest only spent decades in this particular room, watching the pups grow up. She liked to help the tamers train them. Hellhounds are very territorial; because of all the time she spent with them, they Bonded to her. Hellhounds were savage, killing machines. That's what the demons wanted them to be. But with Tempest, she let them act like puppies. She threw an oversized baseball across the room and watched with a grin as three of them went running after it, crashing into each other in the process._  

 _Crowley's hound, Juliet, trotted towards her, carrying one of her three week old puppies. Tempest knelt down and Juliet deposited the pup in her lap._  

 _"He's beautiful, Juliet," she praised, nuzzling the little baby. His little red eyes blinked twice before he tried to nip at her with a low growl. "Now, now. None of that, little one," she scolded without heat, instantly pulling him away from her face._  

 _Everything disappeared_ _except for Juliet and her puppy_ _. The_ _plastic grass, the cages. Her surroundings were white. White tile, white walls. She stood, ready, prepared for whatever would come._  

 _"Hello, Ember," she heard Sam greet her. She whirled around to see him in a white suit_ _._  

That's not Sam _, she thought frantically to herself, seeing the face under the flesh._  

 _"Hello, Lucifer," she said calmly, keeping a cool and collected exterior. "What do you want?"_  

 _He laughed. "Skipping straight to business, are we, my son?"_  

 _"Please, drop the pleasantries. I'm not your son. You can enter dreams through the walls of the Cage, now?" she retorted._  

 _Lucifer's face turned cold._  

 _"You dare speak to me that way?" he hissed before flinging her across the room_ _with a wave of his hand_ _. She landed hard against the tile, breaking it in places where she impacted the hardest._ _Juliet growled at him ferociously, moving to attack but he kept her frozen still._ _"The Winchesters and Castiel visited me, in Hell_ _."_  

Those _morons, she inwardly fumed._  

 _"I'm guessing my the look on your face, you didn't know?" Lucifer laughed again, changing into the visage of Castiel. "Meet my new vessel."_  

 _"You're lying," she insisted._  

 _"Oh, but I'm not," he stated as he yanked her up by her blue hair._ _"_ _Wanna know what_ else _I know, my little_ disappointment _?_ _"_  

 _"Get out of my head," she hissed in anger as she gripped the roots of her hair_ _._  

 _"You run with them," he growled in her face. "You_ adopted _the_ Winchesters _as your new_ family _!" h_ _e shouted, throwing her away from him a_ _gain. "What, everything I did for you was_ meaningless _?"_  

 _"All," she coughed, and blood dribbled down her chin, "all you_ _ever_ _did for me was_ spawned _me._ _Raped Lilith and forced her to carry me._ _Th_ _en_ _kept me locked up in a castle in Hell like some_ _fucked up version of_ Rapunzel _._ _"_  

 _"_ _Yo_ _u_ _ungrateful child. You just wait," he yanked her up by her hair again, forcing her onto her knees. "I'm going to find you."_  

 _"I don't owe you a damn thing!"_  

 _He slapped her, her head jerking with the force of the hit._  

 _"I'm gonna find you, my little Ember," he repeated. "And I'm gonna make you regret_ ever _defying_ _me."_  

 _He snapped his fingers, and Juliet and her puppy exploded, staining her face and his suit with blood and gore._  

She woke up screaming. Not like a 'holy crap there's a really scary spider' shriek, but an 'I'm terrified and scared for my life' scream. She sat up straight in her bed, one hand over her mouth to muffle the screams she couldn't stop, one hand over her rapidly beating heart. 

All the Avengers and Bucky were in her room, weapons lowered. _How long had she been screaming?_ Steve's shield was leaning against the door frame, and Tony was wearing repulsor gloves. She bet they would look a lot more scary if they weren't all in various stages of undress. Batman was pacing the width of the foot of the bed, meowing angrily. 

"Tempest?" Jamie called softly, coming to kneel at the side of her bed. 

"Tempest, what happened?" Natasha asked soothingly, sitting on the bed near the girl. 

"I n— I need a phone," she stuttered and sniffled, wiping her eyes furiously. "An angel came to me in a dream. Not a good one. I need a phone." 

Clint passed her one, and she tapped the six thrice on the dial pad. 

"I thought you were supposed to be warded against that kinda shit," Jamie said. 

"So did I," she responded numbly. 

"Which one?" Wilson asked. "Which angel?" 

"She isn't gonna say his name," Clint told them. "Wouldn't want to accidentally summon him." 

 _"Hello, you've reached the King of Hell. I'm_ _to_ _rturing_ _souls right now, so please leave your name and number and I probably won't get back to you."_  

Tempest hung up and dialed Dean's number instead. 

 _"Hey, birdbrain. We were just about to call you."_  

"Dean?" she sniffled. 

 _"Tempest, what's wrong? Where are you?"_ His voice turned from playful to scary serious. 

"I need you to call Crowley and tell him to check on Juliet. I think something really bad happened." 

 _"Okay, I'll go do that right now. I'm gonna let you talk to Sammy and Charlie, okay?"_  

"Okay," she bit back a sob as she leaned into Natasha, who, after a second of hesitation, embraced her and ran her hand down her arm. Clint came and sat on the other side of her. 

 _"Hey,_ _sugarbabe_ _, what's wrong?"_ Charlie crooned. 

"Everyone needs to check all the wards," she said frantically. "All of them. Every single one." 

 _"Okay, we'll get Cast—"_  

"No!" Tempest interrupted Sam. "Cas isn't Cas. Cas is _not_ Cas right now." 

 _"What's that supposed to mean?"_ Charlie asked slowly. 

"I have a feeling we're gonna be up a while," Jamie stated to the room of superheroes. "Someone show me how to make coffee." 

Everyone but Clint, Natasha, Tempest, and Batman left the room. 

"Stull Cemetery," she tried to hint without saying any names. 

 _"Stull Ceme— are you telling me that Cas said_ yes _?"_ Sam questioned in shock. 

"Check the wards. Get Lola to bring me my shit, and get Dean and Crowley over here so I can yell at them. Holy shit, I gotta do wards. I gotta ward this whole fucking place. I gotta go." 

Tempest saying 'fuck' showed how freaked out she really and truly was. She handed the phone back to Clint and climbed out of the bed as she shoved her glasses on her face and brushed the hair out of her eyes. 

"Ow," she whined as she touched the back of her head. "Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow. Goddamn dream." 

" _Maylutka_ , what happened?" Natasha made to follow her as Clint talked with the Winchester and Bradbury on the phone. 

"I got thrown into a tile floor in my dream. I guess it transferred to real life. Getting thrown by an angel will do that to you. Friggen' angels," she fumed. "I gotta ward this whole place." 

She found everyone else in the kitchen, some dressed in clothing that wasn't night shirts or underwear. Wanda had a pair of sleep pants on, and Vision simply didn't care. A quick glance at the clock on the microwave revealed it to only be five-thirty in the morning. 

"Shit, I'm sorry I woke you, guys," Tempest apologized. 

"Don't worry about it, kiddo," Wilson yawned into his mug. "You're not the first one to wake up screaming around here." 

"Mind explaining just what the hell is going on, though? 'Cause that'd be awesome," Tony snarked. 

She didn't even glare at him, which confirmed Bucky's suspicions that she was totally freaked the fuck out. Instead, she took a deep breath and looked down at the floor, fidgeting with her fingers and the hem of her shirt. 

"My brothers and my sister are coming here to help me ward your Facility against supernatural creatures that mean harm. That should keep out everything and everyone malicious," she stated in a small voice. "I'm gonna need a map of how far you want the wards out. If you just want them in the building or all the way out to your property line." 

"Friday, please pull up a map of the Facility," Steve requested, and a map showed up on the counter as a 3D hologram. "You're the expert, Tempest. What do you recommend?" 

"Um," she took a moment to think, studying the map. 

"Put alerts here and here," Jamie tapped along the property line when she didn't answer. "Then glue traps," he tapped several key places. "Then keep-outs in every north, east, south, and west corner of every floor of every building." 

"Also specific wards against certain angels," Clint spoke up. "Those we can hide under paintings." 

"Power drainers, too?" Jamie suggested. 

"Definitely," Tempest agreed in a small voice. 

Now all there was left to do was wait for Dean, Sam, Charlie, Crowley, and Lola.

* * *

 


End file.
